Shadows
by write2staysane
Summary: Merlin has been waiting for centuries for Arthur to return. He's watched civilizations rise and fall, and with each year the magic in Avalon drains away more and more. The magic runs out, and Arthur hasn't risen. Will Merlin have the strength to go on? Inspired by and uses the song 'Echo' by Jason Walker


_Hello, hello, anybody out there?  
Cause I don't hear a sound_

The silence is overwhelming. It's not just the absence of noise that gets to Merlin, but the utter stillness of it all. The shores of Lake Avalon are long dry, and still he waits, existing quietly in his small house built on the once-thriving shores. Now there's not much but rocks and dirt. He's lying on his back, gazing up at the stars, when he feels it. The last bit of magic has drained from the sacred moves. Merlin thinks that if he could, he would stop berating.

_Alone, alone, I don't really know where the world is  
But I miss it now_

The year is 2014. He's been alive for so long now. Too long, he thinks. He can count on one hand the number of people he's spoken to in the last century. The traveler in the blue box who sometimes comes to sit with him. The centurion who waited patiently for his love, who reminded a merlin of himself, when he still had hope. The headmaster of the school that taught a diluted form of magic, straining to keep it alive in this day and age. The Captain who once sat with him for over a month without saying a word, after those first few sentences. Mostly when he had visitors, Merlin let them talk. He never had much to say to anyone but Dumbledore, and that was only to give him pointers on magic. Distractions, that's what the conversations were. Distractions from the endless waiting. Merlin doesn't keep up with technology-he stopped trying around the time telephones were invented. Sometimes tourists came by the lonely, secluded spot, and Merlin found himself missing the feeling of companionship and the bustle of life. Those episodes always passed within hours.

_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name  
Like a fool at the top of my lungs  
Sometimes when I close my eyes  
I pretend I'm alright, but it's never enough_

Merlin shudders and closes his eyes as the sudden lack of magic sweeps through him. All these years, Avalon's power has thrummed in his bones, alongside the ancient and indomitable magic that was part of his being. When he opens he's eyes again, nothing in use night sky has changed. The moon, just a sliver of silvery brightness, is still glowing dimly. The stars still hang in their positions, constellations easily visible through the shield of magic preventing pollution above the clearing. There's no wind to stir the dry grass where water once flowed, nor the trees still growing in the distance. Merlin holds his breath. Maybe this time, his magic will let him die.

_Cause my echo, echo, is the only voice coming back  
Shadow, shadow, is the only friend that I have_

Merlin's lost track of the number of times he's tried to kill himself. The first time was the week after Arthur died. Merlin shoved himself through the forest, blinded by grief and rage and shame. He'd stumbled into the lake, pushing against the water until it was over his head and he lost his footing on the muddy bottom. He didn't try to pull himself back up. Merlin had woken, gasping, on the shores of Avalon. He stayed there for days, trying to put an end to his own life, but nothing worked. Finally, he resigned himself to his fate and trudged back to the castle. He'd tried again when each of his remaining friends died, killed in war he could not stop. Again when Camelot fell. When Queen Guinevere was executed. When he started to forget the smallest things about life in Camelot-how Arthur took his tea, Gwen's favorite dress, the way Gaius looked at him when he'd done something remarkably stupid. When he started to feel that he'd become too old. Maybe now that magic was gone from Avalon he could finally rest.

_Listen, listen, I would take a whisper if  
That's all you had to give_

The one time Merlin had tried to integrate back into the world was during the Renaissance. Magic was flourishing for the first time in centuries, and Merlin felt almost young again when he set out on a journey across Europe, as it was now called. He taught young sorcerers what he could and made some impressive acquaintances along the way. After several months, Merlin began turning around to mention something to Arthur ("look at that sculpture! Isn't it amazing?" "I can't believe the way they build things now!") and only found empty space. When these episodes started becoming more frequent and sent a pang of longing through his chest each time, Merlin returned to Avalon. The world would keep turning without him.

_But it isn't, is it?  
You could come and save me and  
Try to chase the crazy right out of my head_

Merlin spent his days drawing, when he started to forget. He drew Gwen, the way she looked when she approached him for the first time as he was being pelted with fruit. He drew Gwaine, laughing with the other knights in the pub, with a pint in his hand and his head thrown back in the careless joy only he ever managed. He drew Leon standing at Uther's side, ever loyal and brave. And he drew Arthur. Waking up in the morning with his ridiculous hair, training the knights with a furrowed brow, as he parried and attacked, the frowns creasing his unlined face during council sessions. There were some things Merlin never wanted to forget that he drew. Some things he drew because he couldn't stop remembering. Mordred as a young, wide-eyed boy. Morgana conversing with Morgause and Cenred. Will burning on a pyre at Ealdor. Arthur's body going up in flames.

_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name  
Like a fool at the top of my lungs  
Sometimes when I close my eyes  
I pretend I'm alright, but it's never enough_

The days have blurred together in Merlin's memory. He can no longer remember if he painted something in the18th century or just last week. Time, to him, is now nothing more than an illusion. He exists through days and nights, and when the moon rises he stares at the stars and maps pictures in the sky. He was offered a chance to see them in person, once. He declined. It was his duty to wait for Arthur, no matter how long it took him. No shortcuts allowed. Now, as they twinkle above him, Merlin lets a single tear roll down his cheek. He hasn't cried in centuries. There's been no reason for him to. Now he lets his walls come down and he cries silently, unwilling to break the peaceful quiet of the clearing.

_Cause my echo, echo, is the only voice coming back  
Shadow, shadow, is the only friend that I have_

Merlin has seen empires rise and fall, seen the dawns of new civilizations and witnessed their ends. He's never intervened. He let history run it's course, daring to hope for Arthur's return only in the darkest of nights. The World Wars were both times when Merlin sat on the edge of the diminishing lake and didn't sleep for hours, waiting for Arthur to return. Of course, he never did, Merlin had always awoken the dawn after peace had been declared and cursed himself for hoping, cursed Arthur for not arising, and the world for forcing him to live like this.

_I don't wanna be an island  
I just wanna feel alive and  
Get to see your face again_

The odd tourist who used to come to the lake always took some sort of interest in Merlin. They'd heard stories of the mythical 'Lake Avalon' and the man who lived there. Whenever Merlin went into the tiny town several miles away from the edge of the forest, which was every twenty to fifty years, he fed them some story about being the previous owner's grandson. It usually worked, but when the tourists came they always came to his door, asking for a tour of the area. Merlin did it grudgingly, giving them the barest details and never mentioning Lake Avalon by name unless it was to discredit the stories. Once they left, he'd stand and stare out over the water that diminished more by the year and remember how curious he used to be, wanting to know everything under the sun.

_I don't wanna be an island  
I just wanna feel alive and  
Get to see your face again_

Merlin sits up slowly, trying to prevent any rustling grass that might disturb the peace. He looks around at the barren land and wonders, what was the point? If Arthur is never going to return, why make me immortal? The curse had caused him nothing but heartbreak. In the still silence, his memories whisper in his mind, voices calling to him from so long ago. Merlin closes his eyes and listens.

_But till then  
Just my echo, my shadow_

_Let go, Merlin,_ the voices urge him. Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, Gwen, Percival, Lancelot, Hunith, Will, Freya, Gaius. Arthur. They call to him, voices echoing in the emptiness of his head. Merlin listens to them and lets the tears roll down his face. He reaches down, into his soul, and gently let's go of his magic. He's tried this before. This time, it works.

_You're my only friend and I'm  
Out on the edge and I'm screaming my name  
Like a fool at the top of my lungs_

Blackness swims in Merlin's vision, and just as he is about to let go and drown in oblivion, he hears something.

_Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright  
But it's never enough_

Soft, crunching footsteps breaking the silence. A shuddered breath that did not come from him.

_Cause my echo, echo  
Oh, my shadow, shadow_

A hand on his shoulder.

_Hello, hello  
Anybody out there?_

"Merlin."

_Arthur._

**_fin._**


End file.
